


Monster you made me

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Series: NaNoWriMo 2014 [6]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, Past Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-04
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-24 02:25:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2564888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Why should I apologize for the monster I’ve become? No one ever apologized for making me this way.</i><br/>-— 	<b>Amy Elliot-Dunne</b>, <i>Gone girl</i> by Gillan Flynn</p><p>Jaina Proudmoore struggles with the way she views herself after Theramore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this: http://draka-daughter-of-zuura.tumblr.com/post/101323334001  
> But not in a good way. I also couldn't find the original source for that, so I didn't want to put it as a parent work until/unless I could find the original artist to link back to.
> 
> There might be a chapter 2; I don't know yet.

"Don't be fooled," the pamphlet said. "Jaina died at Theramore. Jaina Proudmoore is now a dreadlord."

Well, Jaina thought bitterly. They weren't completely wrong.

She let the flames spring from her hand and curl through the cheap paper. She wasn't a dreadlord. But she did feel as though she'd died at Theramore. Died along with Rhonin, and Pained, and Kinndy. Along with her home. Along with her entire way of life. The Jaina that had lived before that couldn't possibly survive without those things, could she? Everything she stood for had been pulled out from under her; every rule she lived by shattered into pieces by that wretched bomb. Nobody could survive that.

She'd disintegrated along with Rhonin. Fallen apart into so much dust, like Kinndy. And what was left was... something else.

Nobody ever talked about how it felt like you didn't make it after all. Lots of people talked about how hard it must be for her and how brave she was to carry on. She got a few letters telling her they understood how she felt, and wanted her to know they were always there for her; she doubted it, somehow. She got far more letters telling her she was an awful monster, or a horrible hag, or simply a disappointment; that they couldn't believe Azeroth's best hope for peace had fallen so far, and left her legacy in the hands of a mere teenage boy. Again, Jaina thought, they were half-right. Anduin wasn't a boy, and he certainly wasn't "mere". But they were right that Jaina herself was a disappointment.

It was hard to live up to being what she was before. Impossible. In the same way it would be difficult for her to pretend she were really Anduin, it was impossible for her to pretend to be herself from before the bomb.

She'd died in Theramore. But because she'd continued existing after that - existing, as angry, bitter, and violent - nobody mourned her.

She thought for the thousandth time that it would have been better if Rhonin had been the one pushed through the portal, not her. He was strong, and clever, and kind. And most of all, Theramore wasn't his _home_. Maybe he could have lived through it. He had a family - a living one - that could have helped him, too. Jaina tried to be there for them instead, but it never felt right. She wondered if she would ever again find a place in this world that felt like it might be home - and realised soon afterwards that there was no home for monsters in this world.

If for no other reason than she would make it that way. Frost began to curl around her desk, creeping across the surface of the mirror, unheeded by Jaina. Her continued existence in this world was for one purpose, and it was to ensure that nobody, not one, would ever again be killed the way she was by Garrosh Hellscream. She would never let him hurt anyone the way he hurt her. She'd kill him - then she'd make sure he never returned. It had been years since she'd studied such dark magic, but the knowledge sprang to mind like so much eager well-water when she thought about what he'd done and how desperately the world needed that he be unable to repeat it.

Without warning, the mirror sprang to life. The creeping frost fell away from it in sheets as Varian Wrynn's ghostly face shimmered into view, faint outlines of his room in Stormwind Keep visible behind him; Jaina looked up, suddenly aware that she'd been summoning the frost without realising it. She dispelled it before Varian could notice.

"Jaina, are you busy?"  
"What is it, Varian."  
"Nothing vital."  
"Go ahead."  
"Anduin suggested we invite you to join us for dinner tonight. Genn mentioned Tess had something to show us, but I think Anduin just wants you there."

Jaina sighed, a sad kind of smile on her face. Anduin always had such a strange ability to tell when something needed doing, even if the person needing it was half a world away, and to give just the exact right response. If it was a skill she'd taught him, it was a skill she'd since lost.

"Well, Varian, I don't think I could say no."  
"So you'll come?" Anduin's excited voice burst in from the side of the mirror, and then his face appeared too, bright and excited.  
Jaina gave a tired laugh. "Yes, I'll be there."  
Anduin practically vibrated, then disappeared off. Varian gave an easy smile. "It'll be good to see you again, Jaina."  
"It has been a while, hasn't it." Not since Theramore, she thought to herself. Not in truth. "Alright. See you there. Normal time?"  
"Normal time." Varian nodded, then de-activated the magic powering the communication mirror.

Jaina was left to the silence of her room again.

...she decided to start getting ready.


	2. Chapter 2

Dinner with Jaina had gone well. Or as well as Varian Wrynn felt he had any right to expect it to go, anyway.

Tess had shown her druidic magic, and Anduin had recounted his work with the refugees on the Exodar, and Genn and Varian had talked politics. Jaina had sat, quietly, between Mia and Anduin, not saying anything or looking at anyone. But she hadn’t cried, and she hadn’t frozen her drink over. So that was good.

He approached her quietly after they were done eating and asked her if she wanted to visit his private parlour. She agreed. That was good, too.

Varian reflected on matters as they made the silent ascent of the King’s Tower, only the sound of their breathing, the steps of their feet on the flagstones, and the crackling of the wall-torches for company. Many people had asked him in the last few months why he continued to stand by Jaina’s side. It wouldn’t be the first time an allegiance between human kingdoms had disintegrated. Wouldn’t be the first time a Proudmoore had turned their back on their fellow humans in favour of pursuing war. Wouldn’t be the first time Stormwind had conceded their inability to assist in the defence of another’s kingdom.

Varian didn’t care. There was something more important than the damn kingdoms to him, and that was family. And the kingdoms were _very_ important to him, but family was moreso. And that meant Anduin, Broll, Valeera, and… Jaina.

Jaina was his sister. That’s all there was to it. And she’d stood by his side for years when he had been lost. Stormwind had been sacked, and Jaina, eight-year-old Jaina, had sent him a lovely letter outlining her condolences, and he’d cried all day. He’d lost Arthas - _they’d_ lost Arthas - and they’d held each other through the worst of the news. He’d been torn in two, tossed to opposite sides of the world, and then somehow Jaina had put him back together again. She’d stood by him as he got back on his feet; helped him when he’d been, frankly, sick. Too sick to be a good King, or a good father to his son. Jaina had been there. Jaina had made it all okay. No matter how many times he disappointed her or fucked up, Jaina had been there for him to help him make things right.

And then someone had made things not right for _Jaina_. Garrosh had ordered the most… Light rest their souls, the most despicable manner of attack on a civilian population that Varian could remember, including the sacking of Stormwind. At least the fel fire that burned Stormwind had been extinguished and the city rebuilt - there was no hope of reclaiming Theramore. And Jaina had been, of course, devastated. She’d been torn apart.

There’d never been a moment of hesitation in Varian’s mind. Anything she needed, he would provide, to the best of his ability.

It hadn’t got better for her. The Divine Bell had been taken through Dalaran, while the city was under Jaina’s watch - and even while grieving for his own son, Varian had to consider Jaina’s reaction to the event. Her trust had been shattered once again, while the wounds from Theramore were still healing. It wasn’t fair.

It _did_ frustrate him that she’d broken down his negotiations with Lor’themar. But he’d done the same thing to her negotiations with Thrall, hadn’t he? So many times. He could hardly blame her.

Those were dark months, and he’d rarely done exactly as she asked. She’d become violent in a way he used to be. Almost the exact same way, actually, minus the… demi-god blessing part. He recognised it. He knew that place; hell, he’d been in it when he was her age. So he knew what she needed, or at least some of it.

It’s what she’d done for him, when their roles had been reversed. She needed guidance, patience, and love.

So that’s what Varian tried to extend to her. He’d never been the best at it; but hell, if there was anyone he wanted to try for, it was Jaina.

They reached his chambers, and he opened the door for her like a gentleman. With a small and slightly sardonic smile - the first she’d cracked all evening - she curtseyed, and stepped through. And then after fetching down a bottle of something slightly posh and non-alcoholic, and Jaina’s favourite board-game (a card game which had recently become popular, ironically, with both Alliance and Horde) he earned his first _genuine_ smile. It was brief and cold - a winter-sun smile. But it was there.

They were going to be okay. They were going to be okay _together_. Varian hadn’t been able to see it five years ago, but Jaina had shown him; and now it was his turn to return that favour, that love.

They’d be okay.

 


End file.
